Gramma always talkedin weird words,even towards the end,when there were days on weekswhere she barely recognizedany of us 'cept for Pa's sister(the nun, of course)

Not nonsense, mind you, butit was like the crossed channels in her head was bringing out allthe vocabulary an teacher, librarian, principal, and authorhad had stifled after retiring to being just Gramma,

"I like what I've been hearing about you,Thomas...they say you got drive anddetermination...Ole Tommy-boy's full ofgumption more than one personhas said to me. And that's good thing,'cause I need someone like that."

"How come, Gramma?" I had to ask, even thoughmy Pa's name is Tom, I'm William. Just one of thoseblurred lines we all ran into when talking with her.

"It's all coming to a head, Thomas. And I need someonewho can obviate the swift. mercurial even, declivity that I fear is coming. Sooner than thosedamn doctors, pardon my French, think."

And she was right. I barely had time to say my goodbyesbefore I was saying her eulogy.'Bye Gramma, miss you ev'ry day.

Hidden under the tenebrous shroud of the night, the vampire glid silently, just above the mortals' unaware heads. Grey eyes shone with a mercurial gleam as they scrutinized the city's landscape, finding sleepy minds and some odd bodies enjoying the commodities of the night.

The preternatural creature found his prey, lost, stumbling across a lonely road. With the malign grace of a cat, he pounced and trapped the intoxicated victim in an terrible embrace. Sharp teeth sunk into warm skin and flesh and the vampire was quickly taken over by a delicious sanguine stupor.

The hunters ran hard, the trackers just ahead of them. They would drive the beast into the nets, capture it and study it. Every month on the full moon the team gathers and makes their new plan. The spread out, releasing the dogs to spook him from his hiding place. It was always a risky mission, they had lost dogs and men alike. All being shot with silver even after gasping their last breath. All to keep the town safe from the creature.

The howls erupted as the clouds cleared from the moon. A great rushing sound could be heard as the large werewolf crashed through the underbrush. Snarls and barking. Yells from the trackers and the hunters moved to follow. Deep in the forest, near the far side, the trappers had set up their nets in a range. Behind them, they were lined up, guns at the ready. They wanted him alive, caged for the townsfolk to see but a salvo was unleashed instead as the creature threatened to break through the ranks.

Screams and blood followed. They would have to regroup for the next full moon. If there were enough volunteers...

Anderson crept through the brush along the periphery of the security fencing and the rotating lights that illuminated sections of chain-link, grassy spaces that no doubt held mines, or worse. He checked his watch and hoped he was still in sync with the rest of the team, otherwise this would be a really quick mission. And disavowed, no doubt, just like they always say on tv and in the movies. As if on cue, a truck came out of the darkness and stopped close by the fence, then pivoted back and dropped its tailgate and he watched a short ramp come out of the bed and took off at a run, one hand telescoping out the collapsible vaulting pole so he could hold it in both hands.

Just as Anderson's boots thomped up the ramp, arms planting the pole in the special socket made for it in the truck bed's liner, and then his body thrusting itself up and over fence and potential mines, the night sky was lit by one salvo after another of covering--and distracting--air bursts meant to turn attention, both human eye as well as motion detector controlled cameras, away from what he was doing.

Christopher and Jude, vouchsafe our work here tonight. Just a short free passage, that's all I ask for.

I will always recall our halcyon days,wistfully and with a lingering smile,that pierces a failing memory's haze;I will always recall our halcyon days,even as we went our separate ways,moving further apart, mile after mile;I will always recall our halcyon days,wistfully and with a lingering smile.

"I tell you, Fellis," the rumpled ranger said to his traveling companion. "We should ask those pilgrims we passed if any of them would consider hiring out." His healing talents were sparse, but usually good enough to get by on when it was just him or even him and one other, but the Halls they were heading towards might call for someone more skilled.

"We could try," Fellis answered with a nod. "But those who follow the Penitent God tend to be a touch self-absorbed."

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. "How did you mark them as worshipers of Ilmater? I saw no signs or symbols."

"You forget. As an acolyte of the Lady Tymora, I do have some religious training. 'Sides, who else would show such an inclination to self paste themselves in such a way?"

Time waits for no man, that’s what they say.To each of us, we are granted our due, pro rata, and not an ounce more do we get.At first, it seems more than enough, but as the days dwindle, and the minutes are eaten away, one by one, we find our ending festinate towards us, before we are ready.How I wish that I could placate Old Father Time and beg that Anthropomorphic Personification to sustain me and those that I love for some bespoke period beyond measuring.Sadly, the harbinger of death’s trammel will come to sweep me off my mise-en-scène, for that is the apodictic of things, to have an end.So, no matter how laudable the life lived, or contrite the sinner, their illustrious presence upon this winsome world is snuffed out, like a candle, to lay in the dark.Time waits for no man.So do not waste a moment, I pray.

The same faces. The same voices. The same city. It all faded into insignificance, leaving nothing but indifference and disdain in its wake. Like the plague and presumably as epidemic. Didn't he know it. Inevitable, one might assume. But assumptions were worth shit. As worthless as many other things.

'Was this all?'

'No. Can't be.'

It was the routine that was slowly eating away at him. Piece by piece. Antagonizingly slow. Painful like a drill splitting his skull. And as much as it was trying to devour him, the fury was clawing. Subtly. 'Are you scared, yet?' The dullness was screaming soundless screams in the darkness. The never changing motions he had been tired of long before he cared to remember. But, perhaps this was the price that had to be paid.

'They all will never know what hit them.'

Not yet. Patience was virtue, right? Fuck that. But his time will come and nobody will see it coming. They were blind. Drowning in their own arrogance. Such a sweet, sweet, weakness, that. His time to show them all that he was not an acolyte anymore. Each waking moment brought memory. Of course it did. The past was as persistant as it could be. Tormenting at times, encouraging in other times. Both combined, pain and could make for an indeed deadly combination. He would be like venom in their veins, creeping, quietly. Oh so very quietly until their precious, so well built castles will to collapse like houses of cards. This will be his moment to strike and claim what should be his all along.

And it will be such a glorious moment. His moment. Elevated. Superior. Mine.

James authorized the computer to adjust the bottom habitat's rotation, slowing down the speed pro rata to compensate for the lingering waves of the gravitational anomaly. Multiple feeds competed for his attention. He let the autopilot do its job. His thoughts were elsewhere, his heart breaking. Sure, the habitat would stabilize now, he could see as much in the predictions, but at what cost? Calculations promised that the orbit of the prison habitat stabilized around the star within a week. Crew and the inmates would better get used to the view of a blue sun. Without a space folder there was no getting out of this system in a long long time.